


Danger walks on 8 legs

by tinypeckers



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:44:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3588381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypeckers/pseuds/tinypeckers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was Grif saving Simmons from ‘perilous’ danger… Spiders count, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danger walks on 8 legs

**Author's Note:**

> TWO KAY FIC TEEN  
> PU-RO-M-PT ME? <3
> 
>  
> 
> :')

Dexter Grif was a horrible soldier. He was lazy, dishonest and unreliable. Grif didn’t care if they won or lost the war as long as he lived and got dinner that evening. He never stood to attention when asked and would rather eat twenty pies than do five push ups. Grif had managed to skip out on daily training due to laziness and often took the majority of the rations for himself. He was unapologetic for his actions – he liked his food, food was good and it was the only thing that got him through his job. It hadn’t been his choice; that was what it had boiled down to. Grif didn’t choose the military life – it chose him and dragged him all over the place in the process. Despite all of this there was one thing that was sure to get him moving and to make him passionate about his job. Something was a rather vague word when everyone, including Grif himself, knew that he meant _someone._

 

 

Dick Simmons was weedy and nerdy and belonged in a laboratory rather than a battle field. He was tall, much taller than Grif, and needed to be constantly reassured and babied. He’d been the top of the class all throughout school and he didn’t intend to lose such a title now. Simmons would give his right arm for their leader and always stood straight and saluted when called to. He cried sorry after every mistake and sometimes almost literally cried if someone didn’t reassure him it was okay. Still, he was proud of himself and boasted at every opportunity for he’d learnt that if he didn’t nobody else would. Simmons chose the military life because he thought it’d finally get his father off of his back and show him that he could be a manly man rather than a nerd. He’d proven that that hadn’t changed countless times.

 

 

Grif was on his second snack of the morning (five minutes after breakfast) and contemplating a nap when he’d heard it. It was a shrill, panicked scream and a hoarse and devastated cry for help. Grif had dropped his snack in his haste and chased the sound until he reached Simmons’ bedroom. When the door opened, Grif had half expected to see his friend bloodied and beaten by a dirty blue or with a dire illness. What he saw instead was Simmons clutching the hem of his boxers (he was wearing nothing else) in all of his freckled glory. He stood upon the bed, stock still and eyes trained to the ground. When Grif cleared his throat, Simmons jumped and almost fell off of what Grif assumed he’d deemed his ‘safe perch.’

“What’s wrong?” Grif said casually as though he hadn’t dropped one of two things he truly loved (food) to rush and help the other one (he would never admit to it though).

 

 

“I woke up,” Simmons began as though he was saying a dramatic monologue.

“What? Did you forget that you were here? I know that’s hell to wake up to.” Grif interrupted. Simmons glared at his inconsiderate reaction and flat out rude behaviour but had grown used to it after the years he’d been forced to share with the man.

“As I was saying, I woke up and there was this… this thing right next to my face and it was hideous and hairy…” Simmons went on and on and Grif pretended to listen.

“Look, Simmons – don’t talk about Sarge that way.” Grif joked.

“I would never!” Simmons gasped and then he pouted, “it was a spider. A big one and it is still in here I know it is.” Simmons ground out as he stared at the ground accusingly.

 

 

“You screamed like that for a spider? C’mon, Simmons – we’ve been through hell and back and that is what you’re afraid of.” Grif complained. Why had he dropped his snack for this? Simmons was a big baby. A cute but very annoying baby. Simmons stomped like one two as his feet pummelled the mattress in frustration.

“Look, you can shoot an alien or hide from crazy people who want to kill you.” Simmons reasoned.

“You can shoot a spider.” Grif countered.

“No, you can’t – they’re wild things.” Simmons swore with a crazed, almost scary look in his eye. Grif nodded as though he believed him.

 

 

Grif was about to propose the question on how they move on from this when Simmons screamed again. He pointed frantically to the floor at the spider that stood mockingly upon it. To Grif it seemed small and harmless. Simmons clearly could not see it his way.

“Okay, look – I’ll just grab it.” Grif said and he stormed over to it carelessly. He naturally scared it away and Grif sighed when it darted under a chair.

“No, no, no – it is going to lay eggs and have a thousand babies under there.” Simmons cried out.

“It won’t, I’ll get it.” Grif muttered as he got down on the floor. He groaned all the way there and made a show out of it. This was exercise to the soldier these days and he wanted Simmons to know and remember how much he hated it.

 

 

“Have you caught it yet?” Simmons asked so timidly Grif almost regretted trying to make him feel guilty for forcing him to do exercise. He only almost regretted it because he remembered the snack he’d left on the kitchen floor. Grif blindly hit his hand around underneath the chair in the hopes of grabbing the source of Simmons’ upset. Grif managed to grab a lint ball, a sock and a piece of chocolate (which he obviously ate) before he caught the spider. It climbed easily into his hand and Grif scooped it up. Grif didn’t crush it because he didn’t like to kill such harmless things so he cupped it gently in his palm before he pushed himself up and off of the ground with one hand. An impressive feat, if Grif could say so himself. When Grif stood, Simmons watched him warily as Grif took the spider to a small window at the back of the room.

 

 

He opened the window with his free hand and chucked the spider out. When he slammed the window shut, Simmons sighed with relief. Grif brushed his palms together as though he was dusting off after a hard day’s work. Grif turned to cockily ask Simmons for a reward but found that he didn’t have to. Simmons came darting towards him and clung to Grif’s neck. Grif wrapped his arms around Simmons’ back to return the favour and smiled into Simmons’ freckled shoulder. Grif would have liked a new snack (though he supposed he did get that chocolate) or some sort of reward but he figured that perhaps Simmons’ gratitude was enough.


End file.
